"Say again what your master desires," he said.
"Thus speaks N'gori, and I talk with his voice," said the spokesman, "that you shall cut down the devil-stick which Sandi planted in our midst, for it brings shame to us, and also to M'fosa the son of our master."
"How may I do this?" asked Hamilton, "I, who am but the servant of Sandi? For I remember well that he put the stick there to make a great magic."
"Now the magic is made," said the sullen headman; "for none of our people have died the death since Sandi set it up."
"And dashed lucky you've been," murmured Bones.
"Go back to your master and tell him this," said Hamilton. "Thus says M'ilitani, my lord Tibbetti will come on your feast day and you shall honour him; as for the stick, it stands till Sandi says it shall not stand. The palaver is finished."
He paced up and down the deck when the men had gone, his hands behind him, his brows knit in worry.
"Four times have I been asked to cut down Sanders' pole," he mused aloud. "I wonder what the idea is?"
"The idea?" said Bones, "the idea, my dear old silly old fellow, isn't it as plain as your dashed old nose? They don't want it!"
Hamilton looked down at him.